


Boyfriend Material

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 17:43:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: Complete AU where none of them know each other, Murderface (unsuccessfully) tries to flirt with Skwisgaar in a bar.Warning:  Murderface may or may not be the next Eric von Wiechlinghammer





	Boyfriend Material

**Author's Note:**

> The bartender is based on a cross between Valkyrie (MCU) and Brun (Questionable Content), not sure if that’s helpful info but there it is. Or, picture whoever you like, it’s fine.

Skwisgaar was sitting at the bar, on his usual stool. The bar back mirror let him watch for anyone he might be interested in, while allowing him to ignore everyone else. Too many people mistook eye contact for an invitation, and that got tiresome.  
But sometimes it didn’t work, and he rolled his eyes as a man slid onto the stool beside him. There were plenty of empty stools, no need for him to sit that close.  
“Scho, can I buy you a drink?”

Annnd he was trying to flirt. Skwisgaar sighed and turned to face him, “You does realize I amns’t a lady, right?” It wouldn’t be the first time someone had made that mistake from the back, mostly because of his hair.  
“Yeah I know, I’ve been watching you for a while now. I mean, you come here a lot, and scho do I. Drink?”  
“No t’anks.” He studied the guy, nobody he would have paid any attention to, so he had no idea if he’d been actually around or not. Bad hair, gapped teeth, a moustache that might have been aiming for Tom Selleck but missed, and questionable fashion choices. No, he wasn’t interested. At all.

The bartender came over, and the other guy ordered a margarita and, “Whatever he’sch having.” She glanced at Skwisgaar, who shook his head and tapped his empty beer bottle, knowing she knew what he meant. He _did_ come here a lot, after all, he was a regular. She probably just liked him because he didn’t try to pick her up, but he was pretty sure she didn’t even swing that way, and she was also a bit scary. He’d seen her physically throw rowdy patrons out the door, even men much larger than herself.  
She brought their drinks, took the other guy’s money (Skwisgaar always ran a tab) and served waiting people at the other end of the bar before returning with his change.

The man was clearly disappointed, “I schaid I was buying hisch too!”  
“Pfft, I tells her not to lets you, I can buys mine own drinks.”  
“Fair enough, I guessch. I’m Murderface, by the way.” He held out his hand.  
After a brief hesitation, Skwisgaar shrugged and shook it, “I would says nice to meets you, but I really don’ts care.”

“Wow, you’re kind of a dick.” He let go and then brushed his fingers down Swkisgaar’s shoulder and back, “Hey isch thisch schilk?”  
“Ja, and stops touching.”   
“Guessch what my vescht isch made out of... “ he smiled, “Boyfriend material.”  
“Dat ams a terribles line, and I t’ink you knows it. Besides, I don’t has a boyfriends.”  
“Well not _anymore_ you don’t,” he fingered the edge of his vest, rubbing the leather.

“What de fucks ams dat supposes to mean?” He took a closer look at what his unwelcome beau was wearing and scoffed, it was like the guy couldn’t decide if he wanted to dress 80's or 90's. A cheap tshirt, and shorts with boots, who did that? Topped with a vest that looked well made at least, but did nothing to improve the outfit. At least his own clothes, while not showy, were quality.  
“Isch there anyone you haven’t scheen in a while?”  
“Dere ams all kinds of people I hasn’t seen in a longs time, you has to be a lots more specifics.”

“I mean,” his expression was probably supposed to be seductive, but just came across as creepy, “here, in thisch bar. Isch there anyone you haven’t scheen in a while?”  
Skwisgaar tried to think. While he did hook up with people sometimes, rarely the same person twice, and the patrons came and went. He ignored most of them out of habit anyway... “Can’t t’ink of anyones.”  
“Oh.” Murderface looked quite dejected by this news, for some reason. Then he shrugged, “Fuck it, it’sch schtill boyfriend material, juscht maybe not yoursch.”

Could that possibly mean what he really hoped it didn’t? “Ams you saysing.... dat you makes it outs of _people_?”  
“I did not schay those words! Why would I schay that?!”  
“Because it ams really soundings like you kills some dude and wears him to flirts wit’ me? Which ams totallies not worksing, by de ways.” He was partially turned on his stool, no longer willing to have his back to this man. He knew the bartender was keeping an eye on the situation as well, and would intervene of he indicated that she should. Or if she just decided to, it was her bar after all.

“I want you to come home with me,” Murderface insisted, gazing at Skwisgaar with desire of some sort. It was hard to tell if he wanted to fuck him or eat him. Or maybe _wear_ him?  
“Nots goings to happen. Takes your creepy boyfriends clothes and be goings away now.” He waved dismissively, “Shoo.”  
But he grabbed Skwisgaar’s wrist tightly, “I _schaid_ come home with me!”

And then Murderface’s face was slammed into the bar top by a handful of his hair, the bartender didn’t put up with the harassment of anyone and was very fast, “Get out of my bar. _Now._ ”  
“Ow, jeezch! I think you broke my nosche!” He touched it gingerly.  
She shrugged, “Looks the same to me.”  
“You juscht loscht a cuschtomer! Schee if I ever schpend my money here again!” Still looking angry (and more than a little afraid) he stormed out. He tried to slam the door, but the closer arm only let it shut gently behind him with it’s usual wheeze.

Skwisgaar turned to her, apologetically, “I ams sorry you loses a customer because of me.”  
She patted his hand, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve had my eye on him for a while, but until tonight he’s never actually done anything sit in the corner and stare at people. I just needed a reason to kick him out.”  
“You should probably bans him? He says some disturbing t’ings to me, don’t know if dey ams true or nots, but jus’ in cases?”

“I overheard some of that,” she nodded, “All I can tell you is that when I last saw him three days ago, he didn’t have that vest. Might not mean anything, but who says that?”  
“Dat guy, apparentlies,” he shrugged. “Well I t’ink I has had enough excitements for de night, closes mine tab? Adds de usuals.” He always tipped the same percentage, and trusted her do the math for him.  
She brought him the slip and he signed it without bothering to read it, handing it back.  
Skwisgaar finished his remaining beer, then left.


End file.
